


Politics

by Choke-a-Bro (Vanya_Deyja)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AU, Arranged Marriage, Fluff, M/M, Politics, Princes, schemes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23610019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanya_Deyja/pseuds/Choke-a-Bro
Summary: Prince Prompto wants to be important. This marriage is his ticket there. But scheming his way into Prince Noctis' favour would be much easier if the Prince wasn't so...
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 32
Kudos: 252





	Politics

Someone throws the word ‘consort’ around as a joke at first but apparently the tradition isn’t exactly ancient history in Lucis. Apparently, Prince Noctis’ grandfather had consorts and the practice was never banned exactly just fell out of fashion. King Regis is reportedly something of romantic, swore himself to his Queen, never took another wife and Prince Noctis has managed to keep any trysts out of the press so maybe he’s the same? Prompto entertains all these notions as the Lucian delegation debates the specifics. Emperor Aldercapt only has grandsons, no granddaughters, a product of selective breeding, but the Lucians are willing to take a grandson for the purposes of the treaty.

No one expects the Lucians to take up the idea and frankly it throws the Niff ambassadors into some disarray trying to frantically put together a possible match when they had suspected one was previously out of the question. Prompto’s unassuming, a seventh son, totally disposable in the grand scheme but he’s Prince Noctis’ age and he’s got a less… _bulky_ look than his brothers and cousins. His brothers and cousins are also vehemently opposed to being ‘ _some Lucian’s plaything_ ’ as they put it but Prompto raises no protest. He’d like to travel and experience a new culture. He’s got very few prospects back home. He’s too low in the line of succession to inherit much property or draw in an interested match of any consequence. He could join the military, try to win glory and favour, but honestly Prompto would rather take photos. Blood makes him squeamish.

Prompto is not forewarned before his name is thrown into the arena. There’s no time for such niceties but the Emperor’s ambassadors look at him pleadingly, begging him to play nice, when the Lucian delegation ask to meet him. Prompto does play nice. He smiles and he’s got a good face for smiling. He doesn’t look suave or charming when he smiles but sweet and agreeable seems to be the aim of the game.

The head of the Lucian delegation is a noble named Iren Scientia but there’s also a younger man attending who is also from the Scientia line. Prompto doesn’t get a chance to ask the specifics before the head of the Lucian delegation, Lord Scientia, is glancing exchanging meaningful looks with the smaller bespectacled Scientia.

“What do you think, Ignis?” Lord Scientia poses gesturing over Prompto.

They all pause. Apparently Ignis Scientia holds some sizeable rank or sway because everyone is interested in his opinion.

“I think his Highness would be agreeable to the match,” Ignis pushes his glasses further up his nose. “Prince Prompto seems…. _perfectly agreeable_ to his tastes.”

Prompto’s not sure what that means or how Ignis Scientia knows. Eventually one of the translators manages to discern that Ignis Scientia is Lord Scientia’s nephew and his chosen successor to the position as head of the Lucian Royal Council; future Hand to Prince Noctis. Prompto supposes that means Ignis must know Prince Noctis very well. He certainly hopes so. He doesn’t want to be badly matched. If he’s going to sell himself to Lucian royalty he’d like to get along with his chosen Prince.

It’s official when the Lucians put it in writing but it’s not till three months later that Prompto is packed up to be shipped off to Lucis. He’s allowed his things and a personal staff; a few close servants, a handful of MTs… Prompto’s never had such priority of choice. His grandfather says he can have whoever he wants and that’s unheard of. Prompto’s never been anyone important. Prompto’s had hand me down robes since he was two but he even gets a few custom made ceremonial outfits for the proceedings.

“You’re going to live with very advanced barbarians.” His grandfather informs him in one of the only private conversations Prompto’s ever had with him. “They do not prize science. They work with magic. It makes them formidable, people we want to ally with, but it also makes their customs and priorities very different. You’ll want the Prince’s ear. You get that and you can sway things in our favour for the next fifty years. You won’t be a Queen but if he favours you it’s all the same in practice.”

Prompto can only nod mutely. His family is expecting a lot from this match. They’ve been trying to win over the Lucians for literal years. They can’t seem to conquer Lucis despite their sizeable efforts so they’ve been courting the lineage of the Crystal. Prince Noctis is slated to win the Oracle from Tenebrae as his wife, further cementing their magical powers, and Niflheim doesn’t have a counter to that currently. King Ravus of Tenebrae sees his little sister as a valuable treasure, sacred to all of Eos, and he sees greater symbiosis between her calling and the Lucian magics than anything tech grabbing Niflheim can offer. So, if they can’t win Lady Lunafreya and they can’t offer the Lucians anything more tempting, Prompto will just have to compete with Lady Lunafreya directly for Prince Noctis’ attention.

It’s honestly terrifying.

No one’s taught Prompto high level political machinations and suddenly he’s a key player in the game. He was always a spare, an extra, and now… Prompto’s not sure what he’s gotten himself into.

Everyone gives Prompto advice while he packs up his things. His perpetually distant parents, his too busy older brothers, the Emperor, the High Chancellor… Prompto is surrounded by noise and fussing during the lead up to his trip. So much so that the drop-ship journey across Eos feels almost painfully quiet by comparison.

Prompto’s been taught Lucian but his grandfather sends him with a translator as a precaution. Her job is to try and impress on him the complexities of Lucian culture. He’s taught about the political structure of Lucis; the King, the Crystal, the Ring of the Lucii, the Kingsglaive, the Crownsguard, the Hands, the Shields… it makes his head spin. It’s at once very foreign to him. The Lucians have had a single royal line, unbroken, for two thousand years and their practices are steeped in honour and mysticism. It sounds very theatrical, like something out of a fairy-tale.

Every King of Lucis has a Hand and a Shield his translator impresses upon him. Prince Noctis will have his own in waiting. They will have been selected at birth to fill such roles and trained for the purpose alongside him. They will be fiercely loyal and, Prompto is warned, innately sceptical of Prompto.

Prince Noctis is special. There’s a prophecy about him. The Lucians believe he’s a foretold king, a King of Kings, and he’s the only heir to the throne. Prince Noctis does not have any cousins let alone siblings. There’s no one to cosy up to. Prompto can’t imagine it. His grandfather had eight children. His father has twelve. Prompto is one of so many. Prince Noctis is a prince in the old world, exclusive, sense of the word. Prince Noctis has always been a precious commodity, since the moment he was born, and if Prompto treats him like just another foreign royal it’s not likely to go over well his translator forewarns.

Prompto is struggling to keep all this information in his head. He’s never been a particularly good student. He spends most of the first leg of the trip trying to find photos of Prince Noctis on his phone. He’s very reclusive so most of the shots aren’t recent but he has nice bone structure and Prompto tries to imagine what he looks like now, almost twenty.

When they land in the Lucian continent to refuel before the second leg towards Insomnia Ignis Scientia boards the drop-ship as part of Prompto’s escort. He’s got Kingsglaive with him who search the ship but Ignis assures them it’s just a formality.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Prince Prompto, I hope you’re not too tried from the first segment of your journey.” Ignis supposes taking a seat beside him in the suite. Ignis is an efficient politician. Prompto’s seen nobles with all the grace of a pig trough but Ignis Scientia is—If Prince Noctis is half as handsome Prompto will be fine.

“I slept some,” Prompto promises. “I’m a little nervous though.”

“Reasonable,” Ignis decides. “Prince Noctis is keen to meet you.”

“I couldn’t find many photos of him,” Prompto remarks.

“He’s not traditionally sociable,” Ignis puts it delicately, “and his education is still ongoing. He’s only commenced some public duties recently. King Regis wanted his childhood to be his; private.”

“I read something about a trip to Tenebrae, years ago, was that to meet Lady Lunafreya?”

“Prince Noctis was injured as a child. King Regis sought treatment from the previous Oracle. But that is how Lady Lunafreya and Prince Noctis met. They’ve been avid in their correspondence ever since.”

Prompto tries not to swear. His one job is to be the favourite and Prince Noctis is already close to Lady Lunafreya. They’re not just a political match; they’re childhood penpals. Prompto’s probably already featured in their letters. Has Noctis already made promises to Lunafreya about keeping his heart loyal to her? Prompto feels his nerves mounting.

Worse, if Prince Noctis was injured as a child is his malformed now? Is that why there aren’t any pictures?

This might be difficult.

* * *

Ignis escorts them to the airfield outside Insomnia where they disembark to form a convoy of cars into the fortified Crown City. Again Prompto’s staff are searched and, this time, Prompto’s luggage. His MTs are disarmed which doesn’t make them harmless but greatly reduces their fighting capabilities.

Prompto is in the car with Ignis and two Kingsglaive for the duration of the drive into Insomnia. Ignis makes polite conversation, treats him with manners befitting both their stations, and Prompto begins to wonder if he’ll be an important person in Insomnia or if he’ll fade into obscurity in Lady Lunafreya’s shadow?

“I’ve never seen a magical barrier before,” Prompto admits as they crest the hill outside Insomnia. “Honestly, I’ve never seen magic before.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Ignis promises, doing something on his phone like the massive walled city is nothing so fantastical as it seems.

They’re taken to a private entrance to the Citadel for security reasons. Ignis helps Prompto out of the car, like a regular gentleman, and they’re about to exchange something when a black blur sizzles into existence slamming into Ignis’ chest.

Prompto lurches, worried they’ve been attacked, because no one’s ever appeared out of thin air before but—

“Ignis!” Apparently the magically appearing sizzle is a young man who has both arms hooked around Ignis’ neck. “Fuck I missed you.” He announces, totally ignorant of Prompto and his panicking.

Ignis fumbles, cool momentarily splintering, but surrenders propriety before Prompto to some greater duty wrapping his arms around the young man. Prompto quickly realises why this young man gets priority however;

“And I thoroughly missed you, Noctis, but we have guests.” Ignis tuts, cocking his chin towards Prompto.

Prince Noctis lurches off Ignis like he’s been strung, caught in a moment of impropriety, and finally sets eyes on Prompto.

“I’m sorry,” he fusses, “I thought you’d be coming in the other car.”

“It’s alright,” Prompto manages.

Prince Noctis’ photos did him no justice. He’s handsome. In an entirely different way to Ignis but handsome all the same. He laughs, pawing at the back of his neck, evidently caught off guard.

“They want to introduce us formally inside,” he explains, “but it’s nice to meet you, Prince Prompto.”

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Prompto finds himself fawning. Yeah, this will be fine. Prince Noctis is handsome and he’s friendly with his closest kin. That’s a good sign. If Ignis can get this kind of welcome home surely Prompto can earn more?

“I’ll let Ignis settle you, you must want to get changed,” Prince Noctis supposes. “Sorry again, I just couldn’t resist saying hello. Ignis left a few days ago to prep things and he’s rarely away from home.”

“Rarely away from you, Highness.” Ignis snorts warmly.

“Yeah, that,” Noctis laughs.

“Well, if you’ll leave me to my duties,” Ignis tuts, “hopefully now you’re satisfied you’ve thoroughly ruined your own surprise?”

“It was still a good surprise,” Noctis grins, and Prompto realises with a hot flush they’re talking about _him_. “I’ll see you later, Prompto. Hope the rooms are to your liking. Ignis will make sure you have everything you need. He’s very attentive.”

“Thank you,” Prompto tries to throw a winning smile, “can’t wait.”

In another flash Prince Noctis has vanished.

“What is--?”

“That’s called warping,” Ignis explains, straightening his blazer. “He’s a bit of a warp head.”

Ignis escorts Prompto to a gorgeous suite within the Citadel. Prompto’s head is admittedly still spinning after the brief encounter with Prince Noctis but he couldn’t be happier all things considered. He’s in a lush foreign land, he’s important, there’s a handsome prince... Prompto is sure, somehow, that he can do this. He can make his family proud, win the prince’s favour and live a good comfortable life. He never hoped for so much. A few months ago he was starring down the barrel of dying alone in a country house. 

Ignis leaves him to shower and get changed. His MTs and what will be his portion of the Crownsguard assemble. MTs are allowed in room; they don’t gossip, they can’t be bribed, etc but the Crownsguard wait outside diligently. Prompto isn’t used to such security. 

Prompto calls one of his staff to help him get dressed in one of the ceremonial robes. He has to look good tonight. His hair doesn’t want to cooperate but he’s too flustered to think of a solution immediately. He’s not sure what bag the hair gel is in.

Ignis returns just in time to take Prompto to meet King Regis and, formally, Prince Noctis. Prompto is immediately a little flustered. This can’t be the Lucian King. He has such a kind face. Prompto’s grandfather, another warlord, looks like he eats babies by comparison. Prompto tries not to stumble on the formal Lucian address to Prince Noctis but it’s hard when the Prince is smiling at him like that. Prompto completely forgets himself, even laughs somewhere between nerves and delight, and Prince Noctis cements their defeat by returning the laugh. King Regis looks pleased, indulgent even, where Prompto’s family would’ve killed him for such a cock up. The Lucians seem to find his excited stumbling charming by contrast. 

There’s a formal state dinner to welcome Prompto which follows. Prince Noctis and a few guards are permitted to walk Prompto to the dinner in relative privacy. 

“Your Lucian's good,” Noctis promises, “I wasn’t laughing at that.”

“I know,” Prompto reassures as they walk together. “I laughed first, it’s okay. I should be more graceful, sorry.”

“I like it,” Noctis insists. “It’s refreshing.”

“Anything I should be worried about at dinner? Gossips? Awful relatives?”

“No, I think you’ll be fine. Only inner circle got invites. You won’t meet the extended network till the solstice next month.” Noctis answers.

“Solstice?” Prompto repeats the word in poor Lucian. 

“Solstices and equinoxes.” Noctis explains patiently. “It’s a season passing thing that we celebrate. Ties into the flow of magic in the world. It’s a holiday.”

“I like holidays,” Prompto supposes with a sheepish smile.

“It’ll be fun,” Noctis grins. “And tonight will be relaxed. Dad expects it’ll go late but they’ve cleared my schedule for tomorrow for once so we can get to...” Noctis hesitates. “Get to know each other I guess?”

“That sounds perfect. I don’t know about you but the lead up to today’s been so intense I’d love to just relax.”

“Totally agree.” Noctis seems relieved. 

* * *

The dining hall is grand. Lucians love black so everything is sleek and elegant and absorbing. Prince Noctis leaves Prompto for a moment to say something private to King Regis and it occurs to Prompto he can’t imagine calling his own father ‘dad’ like Noctis does so casually. 

Noctis returns to take his seat as the nobles file in. Prompto recognises Lord Scientia and Ignis but not the hulking bear of a man who struts in, in uniform, and takes a seat on Noctis’ other side. The man puts his arm round the back of Noctis’ chair, thumb brushing his neck very gently, and Noctis turns. 

“Introduce me Highness?” He asks gesturing to Prompto with his knuckles. 

“Prince Prompto meet Gladiolus Amicitia, my Shield,” Noctis complies warmly. “Gladio, meet Prince Prompto.”

“Pleasure Highness,” Gladio assures reaching over Noctis to take Prompto’s hand. 

Prompto tingles. Noctis has no shortage of handsome men around him evidently but Gladio is his Shield; another important person in his life. Prompto flashes a smile.

“Nice to meet you,” he chirps, marvelling in the physical closeness Noctis and Gladio revel in so casually. 

Ignis takes a seat directly across from them and Gladio and Noctis turn in unison to acknowledge him with the same brazen fondness.

“Long day?” Gladio supposes.

“No more so than usual,” Ignis soothes, “please don’t let me interrupt the introductions.”

“Apologies,” Gladio glances back. “Was your trip comfortable Prompto?”

“Ignis took very good care of me,” Prompto assures.

“He’s good at that,” Noctis agrees. 

“My translator has been teaching me about Lucius,” Prompto begins, “is it true Shields are sworn in at birth?”

“Sort of,” Gladio laughs. “I was promised to the next heir when I was born, I played a part in Noctis’ name day when he was born, and when he was eighteen I took my pledge.”

“I’m sorry,” Prompto starts, “we’re different back home. What is a name day? And a pledge?”

“Name days are celebrations to welcome newborns into a family or community,” Ignis supplies.

“Right,” Gladio continues, “and a pledge is a ceremonial tattoo a Shield gets to swear their loyalty to their charge.”

“Is that always an heir apparent?” 

“In centuries past all Lucis Caelums in the line of succession had a Shield. So if anyone died replacements would be ready.” Gladio answers. “You don’t have anything similar in Niflheim?”

“Just MTs, much less romantic,” Prompto laughs.

Gladio and Noctis both grin.

Prompto counts his blessings. Gladio and Ignis are crucial to Noctis and he’s obviously fond of them. Prompto wants their support too if only to get closer to Noctis. Luckily both Gladio and Ignis seem friendly.

Noctis spends half the night introducing Prompto to the inner circle of Lucian nobility. Gladio’s father Clarus Amicitia, a man ominously titled ‘Cor the Immortal’, etc. Noctis is easy going with these people and Prompto tries to be as friendly as his increasingly tired scatterbrain can manage. Ignis and Gladio are never far. One might drift away to make conversation with someone when after dinner drinks are served but one of them is permanently glued to Noctis’ side. Ignis touches the small of his back, Gladio perpetually throws his arm around the back of whatever chair Noctis is sitting on… Prompto can’t tell if it’s a protective or affectionate urge but he senses they’re not to be trifled with and given how Noctis slouches into them with perfect trust the feeling is obviously mutual. They’re favorites. Prompto expected to have to compete with Lady Lunafreya but now he’s wondering if has to compete with Noctis’ retainers too and to what extent?

Eventually Noctis seems to sense he’s waning and murmurs something to Ignis.

“You must be tired from your trip, Prompto,” Noctis supposes. “Ignis can take you back to your rooms if you’d like?”

“I think I’d like that,” Prompto knows he should stick it out but he’s startled by how tried he feels. “I have you to myself tomorrow, right?”

“All day,” Noctis promises. “I’ll come get you after breakfast. Sleep in a little. I know I will.”

“Goodnight,” Prompto brushes one hand over his shoulder as he stands. It’s a brief gesture, the tiniest touch, but Noctis smiles warmly and Prompto feels plenty encouraged.

Ignis is gently quiet on their walk back through the Citadel.

“Rest well, Prince Prompto,” he farewells, holding open the door to Prompto’s room.

“Thank you Ignis,” Prompto manages one last smile before he collapses on the bed.

* * *

Prompto is out like an actual light. He sleeps thick and deep. Waking much later than seems proper the next morning. He has breakfast in bed and discovers he’s not sure what to wear. What exactly did Noctis have in mind for today? Will they be leaving the Citadel? Prompto dithers but eventually defaults to a pair of jeans and a t-shirt when he can’t feel out how formal he should be.

Noctis isn’t far behind but he looks like he hasn’t been up for very long when he enters Prompto’s room stretching his arms over his head.

“Morning,” he greets.

“Morning,” Prompto sings. “Sorry, I can get changed. I wasn’t sure what you had planned.”

Noctis seems to really see him then, taking in the jeans, and just laughs.

“No, that’s perfect.” He promises. “You look plenty nice enough. I didn’t actually have a plan, honestly, I wasn’t sure how tired you’d be. We can tour Insomnia or we can just spend time together here. It’s up to you.”

Prompto weighs the options. On the one hand he should get close to Noctis but conversely maintaining an extended conversation might be hard at this stage when they don’t know each other very well yet. It’ll be easier if they have distractions.

“I’d love to see Insomnia,” Prompto decides.

“Do you want the formal tour or the informal tour?” Noctis ponders, giving him a thoughtful once over.

“What’s the difference?” Prompto asks cautiously.

“Well, formal tour involves museums and monuments. Real tourist stuff. It’ll look good in a magazine. The informal tour is local flavor; the best arcade in Insomnia, the Glavie’s favourite pub for lunch, the dingiest movie theatre with the best selection of foreign films you’ve ever seen…” Noctis trails off. “Both are good. I won’t begrudge you either. What’s more to your tastes?”

Prompto wavers. His translator/guide would recommend the formal tour. If he gets some good candid shots in the press his family will be more at ease he’s making a good impression on the Lucians. That said Prompto has a strong inclination which option will simultaneously tell him more about Noctis and be significantly more enjoyable for a twenty-year old man. 

“I should say formal,” Prompto admits out loud, “but informal sounds like way more fun.”

Noctis lights up.

“Good choice.” He grins. “We’ll go incognito. No one will bother us.”

“I don’t get to go to the Capital much back home,” Prompto admits, “I spent most of my childhood stuck in country towns. I think I’ve only really dreamt of big arcades.”

“Well, kind sir, let’s go have some fun.” Noctis sounds delighted as he offers his hand to Prompto.

Prompto doesn’t hesitate for a second to take it. He’s been waiting for an invitation, feeling out the mood of the room, so he grabs Noctis’ hand willingly when its offered. Noctis threads their fingers and whips out his phone.

“Hey, Crowe,” he grunts into the receiver, “you want an easy day? I need an escort to shadow me in the city. Yeah? Awesome. Bring whoever you need. We’ll meet you at the front gate.”

A rumpled grungy woman with mascara thick eyelashes that could cut a man meets them at the front gate with a few dressed down Kingsglaive and two cars. Prompto and Noctis are loaded into the back of one car and Noctis pulls Prompto’s hand back into his once they’re settled.

They get dropped off in a side street downtown and its immediately obvious Noctis absolutely knows his way around town. Noctis takes them first, as promised, to a bustling arcade glittering with side scrollers and shooters. Prompto tries to be attentive, really he does, but he loses himself almost immediately. He shoves tokens in the machines raking up high scores and feeling every bit his age.

“You’ve got a killer aim,” Noctis remarks as they tumble out of a shooting booth.

“It’s mainly all guns in Niflheim.” Prompto shrugs. “What’re you really good at?”

“Lots of things,” Noctis promises, “but watch this.”

Noctis climbs onto the DDR platform across from them and Prompto grabs the back rail to watch him kick out a perfect high score. He moves very fluidly on his feet, quick reflexes. Prompto whistles appreciatively. Lucian training evidently has its advantages. Prompto’s been taught to take a vantage point and shoot, maybe throw a punch, nothing this fancy.

The awful, wonderful, part of it all that turns Prompto’s stomach is that despite his best intentions to be cunning he’s genuinely having fun. No one’s ever taken him on a date let alone a normal date. Noctis is good company. He talks passionately about iterations of the games they play and Prompto finds himself falling easily into a conversation about consoles and Kings Knight titles.

The pub Noctis takes them too for lunch is packed with in uniform Glaives. Their security takes a table nearby, likewise intending to eat it seems, and Noctis slouches back in the booth flipping through the menu with a grin.

“I don’t know why I look,” he confesses, “I always get the same thing.”

Prompto laughs easily

“Risotto any good?”

“If you like mushrooms,” Noctis shrugs. “Forgive me, Highness, I’m about to lay into a pizza.”

“They have pizza?” Prompto flicks back. “No one ever lets me have pizza…”

“They sound a bit restrictive.”

“I’m not—” Prompto stops himself from stumbling over a confession and tries to explain. “They want us to be fancy but there are lot of mouths to feed in the royal family.”

“Right,” Noctis nods, “well here it’s just me and you so we get to be spoilt."

“I could get used to being spoilt,” Prompto laughs sheepishly under Noctis’ growing grin. “Will you judge me if I smash out a pizza too?”

“Prompto nothing could make me respect you more,” Noctis swears.

Noctis fails to warn him exactly how big the pizzas are but they are good, really good.

“What’s it like being an only child?” Prompto finds himself asking, trying to delicately break a strand of cheese between his mouth and the pizza.

“Pretty good,” Noctis shrugs, “but it can be kind of lonely and stressful too. What’s it like being one of twelve?”

“Hand-me-downs _everywhere._ ” Prompto knows he should speak highly of his family but Noctis is so relaxed Prompto tries to skirt the delicate line between honesty and savagery.

“I was so scared you’d be stuck up,” Noctis confesses, chewing the very edges of his crust without actually eating the crust. “I was terrified I’d be stuck drudging through museums with some absolute git.”

“But you’re having fun?” Prompto supposes hopefully.

“I’m having a great time,” Noctis promises. “Are you?”

“I haven’t had this much fun in ages,” Prompto is completely honest when he says as much too. “I wasn’t sure what you’d look like or if you’d be spoilt or—”

“I mean, I am spoilt,” Noctis grins.

“Looks good on you,” Prompto jokes. “We still going to go to the movies?”

“Absolutely, if you want?”

Prompto nods around another mouthful of pizza and Noctis whips out his phone to bring up the theatre website.

“Pick away,” he offers, handing Prompto his smartphone across the table.

Prompto scrolls, humming thoughtfully. There are a couple of total downer options, a romance or two, most of the movies are with subtitles and some of them are old. He reads a description or two before—

“Oh my god,” he whispers.

“What?” Noctis asks, mouth full of straw.

“Nothing,” Prompto catches himself too late.

“No, dude, spit it out.” Noctis urges. “What did you find?"

Prompto can’t think of a convincing lie so clicks on the movie title and takes them to the next page with today’s showtimes before thrusting the phone back at Noctis. He expects Noctis to laugh but he doesn’t.

 _"City Smashing Monster from the Beyond 6?_ ” He repeats, testing.

Prompto bites his lip.

“The Six sent you for me,” Noctis deadpans. “They made you in a lab, didn’t they?”

Prompto can’t help it. He laughs so hard he has to cover his mouth. Noctis’ grin is infectious.

“There’s a showing in forty minutes.” Noctis promises tucking his phone away. “We can absolutely watch the giant monsters.”

Prompto finds a strange feeling churning in his gut, something like happiness but unburdened and unfamiliar. Prompto knows he should take this seriously, scheme, but honestly…?

Just being himself seems to be working better than anything.


End file.
